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Izuku sort of had a quirk.
Okay, so it’s technically not a quirk. Random people within the population were known to be born with the Sight, as people took to calling it. Sometime when quirks manifested, the Sight also made an appearance. It’s not genetically linked to quirks, so scientists can’t categorize it as one. While its cause is unknown, it can be observed and measured, and if quirks themselves didn’t exist, it would have been the most groundbreaking subject of research in the entire world.
The Sight was consistent in its rules, but people could have different degrees of the Sight. At its weakest, a person had an inkling or premonition about certain people, a tickle in the back of their minds. At its strongest, a person could see and physically touch the threads of fate.
Izuku was in the second category.
An electric red thread on his left index finger always connected him to Kacchan, ever since they were in diapers. When Izuku was small, he’d tug on the red string whenever he was lonely, and Kacchan would stumble in to the playroom, asking Izuku why he wasn’t following him already. Izuku didn’t remember when the thread manifested, but it was always there, vibrating with warmth whenever Kacchan was near.
When he was four, Izuku was diagnosed as quirkless, like being handed a death sentence. When Kacchan found out, the warmth in the thread turned painful. Teasing turned into bullying, and the single thread attached to Izuku dug into his skin like a punishment, twisting like wire tightening on Izuku’s index finger and making him gasp in pain. Whenever Izuku tried to touch it, he felt a hot searing anger press into him like a poisoned needle. He was almost ambidextrous, but now he quickly learned how to do almost everything with his right hand, just to avoid unnecessary pain.
Izuku never told Kacchan about his Sight, or if he did, they both forgot about it, because Kacchan never stopped, never hesitated to teach Izuku a lesson that was painful in so many ways. Izuku stopped trying to touch Kacchan’s thread, quietly tolerating the brushes of pain when moving it was inevitable. He persevered through what felt like a collapsed lung as Kacchan suggested he jump off the school’s roof.
The day Kacchan almost died drove a spear into Izuku’s heart. He almost whited out from the pain, as if barbed wire constricted his chest. He almost collapsed, but his legs were frozen into place, hands covering his mouth as he broke into dry sobs. Every choking breath Kacchan suffered at the hands of the Sludge Monster, Izuku not only watched but experienced himself. The pleading, teary look on Kacchan’s face make Izuku’s legs snap into action.
“Kacchan!” Izuku screeched, sprinting past all of the pro-heroes standing by as he raced towards his soul bond.
Adrenaline made his shaking hands steady, confidently stabbing the Sludge Monster’s eyes and forcing him to recoil. The vice around his heart went slack for just a moment, and Izuku revelled in just how close he was to his soul bond, even as he desperately attempted to pull him free from the clutches of a villain. Izuku felt more bold as he tried to wipe away the dark sludge..
“What the fuck are you doing, Deku?!” Kacchan screamed, using the opportunity to squirm free.
"You looked like," Izuku choked back tears, trying to yank Kacchan out of the sludge. "You looked like you needed saving."
Izuku’s hand brushed Kacchan’s uniform, and he didn’t realize it until much later, but in that moment, there wasn’t any pain in his finger.
The second thread that appeared on Izuku’s hand was fuzzy, soft like down feathers as it stems from his middle finger, right by Kacchan’s. He didn’t realize he had it until the day after he met Toshinori, as the next morning, he blinked, and there it was, warm and soft. He’d forgotten how threads should feel.
After years of tight wires and twisting pain, Toshinori’s thread felt like wholly unconditional love. In all honesty, Izuku was glad he didn’t notice that he was soul bonded to All Might himself, because he probably would have fainted on the spot. When Izuku met up with him for training, he tried to stop the stuttering and fractured sentences. It took months for Toshinori to soothe Izuku’s ‘fanboy attitude’, but the few times Izuku tried to explain the threads, the words choked up in his throat, and the memory of small, cruel Kacchan exploding him into the dirt pierced his memory.
Izuku often fiddled with Toshinori’s string to soothe himself, letting the admiration, worry, and care wash over him, and Izuku, on more than one occasion, had to hide under his covers and shake, overwhelmed from just how much All Might, Toshinori, believed in him. The warmth was so close to his soul, so intense and pure, that he couldn’t stop the tears from leaking down his face while he burrowed under his pillow.
Ten months of tutelage and back-breaking work all amounted to the day of the entrance exam. It was Izuku’s most overwhelming day he’d ever experienced, meeting not one but two people who became inexplicably tied to him.
The first was a brunette girl. When he tripped just outside of the entrance to UA, she brushed her hand on his shoulder, catching him midair as gravity’s hold on him disappeared in an instant.
“Sorry! I don’t like using my quirk on people without their permission,” she said cheerfully, coaxing his floating body into an upright position, “But falling before something important like an exam is bad luck!”
Izuku’s breath was jammed in his throat. He couldn’t even choke out a reply as she dropped her quirk with a quick, “Good luck in there!” as she headed inside ahead of him.
He was left outside the entrance exam hall with a warmth stirring in his gut. Out of habit, he fiddled with Toshinori’s thread to feel a moment of security against the upcoming stress of the exam, and talking to a girl for the first time, and his fingers stumbled upon a third string, stemming from his pinky.
Izuku blinked, following the warm red thread up to the stranger’s retreating back, and his desperation to pass the exam returned to him tenfold, if only so he could truly get to know who exactly was on the other end of the thread.
After ten months of sculpting his body into a proper vessel for One-For-All, Izuku was surprised to find that sitting next to Kacchan for the written exam wasn’t as terrifying as it could have been. The thread was still bright, strong, and a little jagged, like a sore wound, but Izuku noticed that over the last ten months, it didn’t ache like it used to. Kacchan ignored him almost the whole time, save for him mumbling about the two of them not being in the same testing grounds for the practical exam. Aside from the idle threat of throttling Izuku, the tone of the short conversation was almost tame for Kacchan, and the fire of the thread didn’t burn that badly at all. Izuku could almost call it relatively muted.
Kacchan stole a glance at him, and when they locked eyes, the ache in the thread twisted Izuku’s insides, causing him to flinch away and stare at the paper in front of him.
A boy stood up, interrupting Present Mic’s introduction to the exam, and Izuku was transfixed by the red glow he spotted on the boy’s finger. He barely caught their conversation, still reeling a bit from both meeting a new soul bond outside and Kacchan’s conversation, only jumping in shock when the boy turns on him, his glasses glinting across red eyes.
“And you,” the boy says icily. “Your muttering is a distraction. This isn’t free entertainment, and if you aren’t here to participate seriously, please leave.”
Izuku ducked his head between his shoulders and looked away, chastened. He wanted to sink into the floor and ignore the snickers around him, especially Kacchan’s, but the shame felt surprisingly deep, and he couldn’t piece together exactly why, until he glanced back at the boy below.
Izuku gasped, seeing a red line string them together, snapping into place like a magnet aligning with the earth. It was taught and bright, and Izuku stared in awe at the his hand, with not one but four spider web threads stemming from him. Three of them were completed in this room alone, and Toshinori’s faded off just past his middle finger.
Two? Two in one day? And on the day of the UA Entrance Exam?! He felt faint; Izuku was ready to run out of the room and maybe borrow a bathroom he could throw up in. But he swallowed the glob of spit that was threatening to choke him, and he hunched down, waiting for the twist of disappointment from the boy to settle down as he apologized to Present Mic for the impromptu questions.
Izuku couldn’t help but fiddle with Toshinori’s thread, feeding off his trust and his aura of strength. It took him a minute to focus on the written exam in front of him, but once the peace settled over all four threads, Izuku set his mind to reaching his goal of being in the UA hero course.
The written portion was over and before he knew it, Izuku was standing in front of the gates to the practical exam. The boy that berated him earlier was, again, reprimanding Izuku, but honestly, Izuku’s brain turned to mush just from the static and annoyance and- was that disappointment?- pulsing from the string on his thumb that connected him to the boy.
He blinked, and the exam was almost over, with no points to show for it, but the zero point robot was upon them, and that girl- his soul bond- was pinned under rubble.
Soul bond or not, Izuku wouldn’t leave anyone behind. Unprompted, adrenaline shot through him like fuel-injections in a sports car, and with a shattering of his own limbs, the zero point robot crumpled by his hand.
Izuku didn’t even have time to find out their names before he limped home, exhausted and alone, save for the three threads he fiddled in nervousness and one he avoided like the plague. He stumbled inside his house and let his mother usher him onto the couch, and that night, they curled up together and watched a movie marathon. He should have felt reassured that he would be accepted into UA, what with two soul bonded people also trying for the Hero Course, but with 0 points, he couldn’t bring himself to hope.
His mother sent him on a dozen errands, usually to the store because she ‘forgot one more thing’, but after the third time, Izuku knew what she was doing. He walked home with a bag of rice he knew they didn’t need, and he hugged his mother as tightly as he could. She sniffled into his shirt, and his tears dampened her hair, and he whispered how much he loved her.
The next morning, his mother nervously brought him mail addressed to him from UA. All Mig- Toshinori was on the screen, showing Izuku the recorded video of his soul bond begging to donate points to him, and he and his mother spent another day sobbing, though the tears were filled with joy.
The night after Izuku opened his acceptance letter, Toshinori finally contacted him.
“ALL MIGHT!!!” he screamed to the heavens, tears in his eyes as he raced down the beach in the dead of night.
Toshinori, with his gangly form swamped in an oversized button down and jeans, jumped out of his skin, spitting blood and shushing him. “Who is that?!” he said in a panic. He urgently whispered, “Repeat after me: oh, I had the wrong person!”
Izuku’s hurried screaming placated the curious onlookers seeking All Might, and they both sighed in relief.
Toshinori raised his hand, “Good job,” he said in earnest.
Izuku blinked, a thousand-watt grin on his face as he high-fived Toshinori. “Thank you!”
“I wanted to let you know that the school board didn’t know about your connection to me when they accepted you,” he said, eyes bright with pride. Izuku felt his hand twitch over Toshinori’s thread, and the warm thrumming through it made Izuku’s hand shake. “You seem like the type who would think that as cheating.”
“I… thank you,” he said. “But I couldn’t control One-For-All,” Izuku admitted. “I destroyed myself with one punch and a jump. It’s all or nothing.”
“You were bestowed my quirk mere hours before the exam,” Toshinori said. “If anything, blame me for not assisting you in learning how to handle so much power.”
“All Mi- I mean Toshinori-san, you aren’t to blame. I wasn’t ready to be a vessel yet,” Izuku insisted.
Toshinori shook his head, but didn’t try to disagree with Izuku’s adamant claim. “The important thing is that we have time to train, and maybe build some self-confidence!” he said, his hand patting Izuku’s, which were twisted into each other. “Hopefully, we can also break some nervous ticks! No crybaby heroes!”
Izuk’s hands were dwarfed when Toshinori laid his large hand over them both, Toshinori patted the top of Izuku’s hands, almost parentally, and Izuku’s breath hitched.
“Young Midoriya?” Toshinori asked, leaning down and checking Izuku for injuries. “Are you alright? Are you still injured?”
Izuku’s entire world narrowed down to the hands on his, and tears flowed from his eyes.
“Midoriya-kun, what’s wrong?” Toshinori kneeled, holding Izuku’s hands in a tender grip.
“I-I…” Izuku hiccups, and tremors race down his left hand. “It’s…”
Suddenly, Izuku was five years old again, with a sneering Kacchan looming over him and a crowd of six or seven jeering kids all chanting at him. He was on the ground,curled protectively around the burn on his left arm, and a cacophony of laughter surrounding him. The cried “quirkless” over and over again, and Izuku was spilling tears over the packed dirt of the playground.
“Come on, Deku,” Kacchan said haughtily. “Stop trying to spread your disease to other people.”
“Kacchan,” Izuku whimpered. “I’m not quirkless. I’ll get one soon. I can see-”
“Don’t lie about those stupid threads,” Kacchan interrupted. “You won’t get a quirk, so don’t pretend that making up thread stuff you saw on TV counts as one.”
Izuku’s throat turned to ash in that moment, and he curled around his left hand protectively, almost hoping that the pain in his finger was from a physical burn and not from the raw rejection of his soul bond.
“What’s the matter, Deku?” Kacchan sneered. “Already giving up on your lies?”
Izuku hid his face in his knees, and he silently mourned while Kacchan’s hands popped aggressively.
The cackling noise stayed with him since that day, haunting his memory. His thoughts were scrambled, and he almost stumbled into the sand, but Toshinori gathered Izuku up in his arms. His mentor’s gangly arms swallowed Izuku, and his face was shoved into his mentor’s shoulder.
“It’s alright,” he whispered, soothing Izuku’s hair down with his thumb. “It’s alright, Midoriya-kun. I don’t know what happened, but I’m here for you.”
The vice around Izuku’s fragile, swollen, mangled heart collapsed, and sobs shook his frame. He clung to Toshinori when his knees buckled, but Toshinori held him up effortlessly.
“Sshhh.”
“I’m sor-”
“Don’t apologize, I don’t know why you’re hurting, but don’t apologize for your selfless heart.”
A sob broke from him, and Izuku smothered it in Toshinori’s shoulder. Never in his life had he felt so much pure, unquestioning love from a thread before, and the sensation swallowed his heart.
“I’m here, Izuku-kun, you’re alright. Count your breaths.”
Izuku wiped his nose with his hand, trying to keep the snot off of Toshinori’s shirt. Another deep, shuddering breath, pacing himself through the crying and the hiccups, and Izuku’s panicking thoughts slowly ebbed away.
Toshinori eventually leaned back, checking Izuku’s face. Seeing only exhaustion, Toshinori held Izuku by the shoulder, checking him up and down for anything amiss. Izuku felt the shame curl in his gut, and he didn’t look Toshinori in the face. Another deep breath, and the tears stopped flowing as freely. Izuku wiped them away with the sleeve of his hoodie.
“Are you alright, my boy?” Toshinori asked, earnest and soft.
“I’m sorry. Yes, I’m okay now,” Izuku replied, rubbing the snot off his face in an attempt to find composure.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
The deeply rooted memory took hold of him, and the spike of rejection came back like a phantom pain. He flinched, his right hand moving to protect his left, and Izuku’s eyes fixed themselves on the sand beneath them, memorizing their texture in the moonlight instead of looking at his mentor.
“You don’t have to,” Toshinori backpedalled. “But something I did caused you distress, and I don’t want to do that again.”
Izuku knew, deep down, that Toshinori wouldn’t be like his own fath- like Kacchan. Toshinori had always known about Izuku’s quirklessness, hadn’t doubted him for a moment, once he showed the makings of a hero. He carefully crafted his schedule to prepare him for One-For-All, because Toshinori wanted Izuku to succeed. Toshinori believed in him wholey, and his thread was a constant pillar of support for Izuku’s drive and confidence. He was the first to say “yes, you can” to Izuku’s dream in a world that would rather let Izuku fade into nothing. A decade of violence and pity, until Toshinori.
But Izuku already felt the scorn of a soul bond, and he couldn’t imagine surviving a second one.
Izuku felt exactly how badly he wanted to say it, too. He wanted to confide in Toshinori just like his mentor did all those months ago, when he asked Izuku to be his successor. The most rational part of him agreed that Toshinori would not turn him away. He would believe him, Izuku knew that.
He just had to find the words.
“I haven’t been the most honest,” Izuku mumbled, slowly raising his eyes to look Toshinori. “I need to tell you something. You deserve to know…”
The pinch in Toshinori’s eyebrow made Izuku’s gut curl. “What is it, my boy?”
“I don’t have a quirk. I never did, but…” Izuku’s jaw shook. “Ever since I could remember, I could… See.”
“See?” Toshinori asked, gently pressing for clarification before his breath stuttered. “Do you mean…?”
“I told people about it before, but no one believed me after I was diagnosed. My first soul bond… he didn’t believe me, and I didn’t want to burden you until I could prove that I was worthy, but we’re… and now that I know I’m going to UA, and you’ll be teaching there, and it just. Felt right to tell you now.”
Izuku stared into Toshinori’s sunken eyes, hyperfocused on their dilation, the twitches in the crease of his eyebrow. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything for me because of a thread…”
“Oh, my boy,” Toshinori whispered, his voice cracking as a wetness shined his eyes. “My boy, I don’t know much of the fates of the strings, but I know that you were always going to be worthy. You were always meant for greatness. I know that for a fact.” Toshinori reached down, holding Izuku’s left hand, and he squeezed. Izuku started crying again. “A thread only agrees with what I already knew.”
“Th-thank you…” Izuku sobbed, “I-”
Toshinori hushed him, bringing him back in for another hug. “You’ve suffered because of your soul bond, haven’t you? I’m so sorry.” He squeezed tightly, pulling Izuku’s head back into his shoulder, letting the boy start back with another round of tears. “I’m here for you.”
Toshinori sat down, pulling Izuku with him, and he let Izuku curl up and sob, half on his lap and half sprawled into the sand. Toshinori had planned for a speech to inspire confidence and spur on his passion for moving forward, but Izuku needed this far more. The unnamed twist that sat in Toshinori’s chest made more sense now. It was their attunement to each other, Izuku’s thread connecting them together. Slowly, he felt the twist uncurl the longer Izuku cried in his arms, and Toshinori knew that he would dedicate the rest of his life to helping Izuku grow.
Tomorrow, they could train. Tomorrow, Toshinori could help Izuku prepare for UA. Tonight was about providing a fourteen year old boy the comfort and safety he'd been without for years.
Izuku eventually ran out of tears, but he hesitated to pull away. Something in him needed this, and Toshinori didn’t pull away either. Acceptance. This is what acceptance felt like, and Izuku felt dizzy from the overwhelming feeling.
“It was Kacchan,” Izuku admitted without prompting, his voice muffled by Toshinori’s shoulder.
“You did run into a hostage situation to try and save him,” Toshinori replied lightly, almost jokingly. Izuku snorted, snot staining Toshinori’s shirt, but it was too late to do anything about it.
“I met two more in the entrance exam,” he added. “I don’t know their names.”
“Perhaps they are your future classmates.”
The threads didn’t lead him astray. They showed a direct road meant for him. He would go to UA. He would become a hero. He had classmates and potential friends waiting for him there, and he might even have more waiting for him that he didn’t know about yet.
Izuku leaned back, sitting on the damp sand as he wiped his face clean. His eyes were red and swollen, and his face was raw, but the shine in his eyes was unmistakably one of joy. “I can’t wait,” Izuku smiled.